


Nocturne for a Father Afraid

by i_claudia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-03
Updated: 2008-01-03
Packaged: 2017-11-18 11:38:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/560654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_claudia/pseuds/i_claudia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus stretched, joints cracking, the cuffs of his faded green jumper sliding down to expose his bony wrists, and looked tentatively at his new son, who only sighed and snuggled further down into his blanket.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nocturne for a Father Afraid

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the 2007 hp_quotathon and posted [here](http://hp-quotathon.livejournal.com/5040.html). (03 January 2008)

Remus stretched, joints cracking, the cuffs of his faded green jumper sliding down to expose his bony wrists, and looked tentatively at his new son, who only sighed and snuggled further down into his blanket. Quietly, Remus crept out of the room, out of the dimly lit sanctuary which, despite soothing blue walls and a comfortable rocker, still made him feel jittery. He preferred to sit, when he had the time to do so, in his worn leather armchair by the fire in the den of their flat, and it was to this chair he stole softly to. He sat down with a contented sigh, letting the warmth of the fire soothe the tension in his shoulders. The old chair was padded as much by memories of younger years as it was by stuffing: if he sat in it long enough, he fancied he could almost hear the whispers of voices long since gone—Sirius, James, Lily. Sometimes he heard Peter, too; a Peter from before the darkness, before the war, before the friend turned Death Eater out of fear and doubt. In this chair he could prop his feet up and remember the days of the Marauders, remember the golden time when the most he’d ever had to worry about was getting to the Shrieking Shack once a month and whether or not James or Sirius had spiked his pumpkin juice with something that would turn him into a budgie.

The fire crackled, and he sighed, the fond memories fading with the sparks. The nostalgia wasn’t as overwhelming, the darkness less near, than it had been in the past. The years after the first war had been painful, though time had gradually numbed the sting of betrayal and regret. Those had been the dead years, years when Remus felt as if he moved in a haze, apart from the rest of the world.

Teaching at Hogwarts and meeting Harry again had made him remember that the world was not made of darkness—there was light, too, if one knew where to look for it. Sirius’s arrival had helped his reawakening as well, and knowing the truth about that one black Halloween so many years before had lifted some of the leaden weight from Remus’s mind. But when Sirius had fallen...

Remus shivered unconsciously, looking over at the bookcase on the wall next to him. One of the shelves held no books at all, only picture frames. Pictures of the Marauders and Lily, pictures of Harry as an infant and as a young man... pictures of himself and a certain bright-haired woman who brought sunshine into the heart of everyone she smiled at.

Tonks had saved him from that second darkness, the darkness that had come with Sirius’s fall through the veil, leaving Remus behind to mourn for a brighter past and fade away once again. Remus had sealed himself away from the hurt, away from the outside world. It had worked to keep him moving after the first war, he had reasoned, and there was no reason it couldn’t work again to see him through. Tonks had fought the walls he had put up, had kicked them and shoved them and had shaken Remus down to his very bones.

He got up and crossed the room to look at the pictures more closely, picking up his favorite. In the photo, Tonks lay on the floor on her side, her head propped up on one arm, smiling adoringly down at Teddy, who lay next to her, turquoise-haired and gripping her free hand in his small, pudgy fist. As Remus watched, the Tonks in the photograph leaned down and kissed their son on the forehead, making Teddy crinkle his nose and smile in toothless delight.

“Seems like every time I come in here, you’re looking at that photo.”

Remus jumped and turned around to see Tonks herself leaning against the doorframe, her dark eyes soft, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. He flushed and carefully placed the frame back on the shelf. “I like it,” he said, watching her out of the corner of his eye as he uneasily rearranged some of the knick-knacks on the shelf. She moved toward him, still tentative after all these months, and he took her hand as she reached up to brush his hair back from his forehead, drawing her into a comfortable embrace. He waited for her to speak; he knew she had something on her mind. Tonks never had been very subtle about her emotions, he thought, and stifled a smile.

“When you... left,” she said, and he shushed her, drawing her closer, as if that would muffle the words, stave off that particular darkness for another day. They stood in silence for a moment, but Tonks was not to be dissuaded so easily.

“I missed you,” she whispered, pressing her face into his shoulder. “I was so worried...” her breath caught, and she took a moment to steady her voice. “I thought you weren’t coming back.”

Remus tightened his arms around her reflexively. He’d thought he’d known what he was doing when he’d left without a note, left her with nothing much more than goodbye and an unborn child. He’d thought he’d known what was best. His darkness had been deep then, and stronger than he’d had the courage to face.

He wasn’t proud of what he’d done, what he’d tried to do. Running had been his first instinct. Flight had opened up a way for him to leave his troubles, his worries behind—or so he’d thought. Harry had set him straight on that, he thought grimly. That accusing stare, the hard words... they’d stayed with him, though he tried to forget them. It had hurt. The words had gotten under his skin, hit him in every vulnerable place, and they’d hit especially hard, coming from Harry. Harry, who looked so much like James... Harry had Lily’s heart, and Lily’s frankness.

He shook himself, bringing his mind back to the present moment. “I was terrified,” he murmured, bringing one hand up to run it through Tonks’s hair. The words were difficult, but he forced them out, stumbling over them only slightly. “It’s no excuse, I know, but... Merlin, Tonks. I was so afraid.”

Tonks looked up at him, her expression serious as she studied him, and his heart twisted. He’d tried to leave this woman, this amazing, phenomenal woman who had come like wildfire into his life and burned away the old and decaying underbrush of his mind, leaving everything new. He’d tried to leave their son, that small miracle who had slowly wormed his way into Remus’s heart, leaving sticky handprints and a strange new feeling behind.

He drew a shuddery breath, trying to steady himself. He had steeled his nerve and come back to Tonks after facing Harry, but the fear was still there, still real. Remus was no stranger to fear, but this was a different sort of terror, a kind he hadn’t felt since the first war. Now, as then, he feared leaving the house; not because he was afraid for his own safety, but because of the lingering dread that it might not be there when he got back. Now, he jumped at small noises and held Teddy too tightly, too long, until his child squirmed and complained. Now, he watched his wife with haunted eyes, knowing that if he were to wake up one day to find her gone, his world would descend into a blackness he wasn’t sure he could ever recover from.

Looking back down at Tonks, he helplessly traced his fingers through her hair, along her familiar jaw line, unable to find the words to say.

“I know,” she said quietly, reaching up with her own hand, smoothing the worry lines from his brow. “Remus, I know.” He shut his eyes for a moment, struggling, needing to know, to be reassured that somehow, some way, everything would turn out alright.

“Remus,” she said, and he opened his eyes again, held by her steady gaze. “It’s okay. You faced down the fear; you came back. That’s all I needed. That’s all I ever asked for.”

“Tonks,” he whispered, wanting to say _only because Harry made me, only because James and Lily’s son shamed me into it_ , wanting to explain, but unable to form the words.

“Remus,” Tonks said again. “I love you. We’re all afraid, all vulnerable. We’re all caught in this war and we have to see it through. But we’re _alive_ , Remus. As long as I live, all I need to face the world is you.”

He looked at Nymphadora Tonks, this passionate, vibrant woman, in love with him for reasons unknown to mortal man, and suddenly it seemed as if the world was clearer, as if there had been a Dementor in the room and she had chased it away with mere words. He caught her free hand, twining their fingers together. “How could I live, without you?” he asked, feeling the weight he hadn’t known existed disappear, the darkness he’d thought was gone recede. “I’ve been realizing, a little more each day—how could I live without your smile, your touch, your laughter? I don’t know how I lived, before you. I existed; I didn’t... I wasn’t alive. I’d forgotten, almost, what it felt like to live, to laugh, to... to love.” His voice caught on the last word: the most important word, the word he hadn’t known how to say.

Tonks squeezed his hand. “I know,” she said again. “I saw it when you came back. I wanted to make sure you knew it, too.” 

They stood there, hand in hand, and Remus felt like shouting, like singing and dancing through the streets and all manner of foolish things. Tonks looked up and smiled impishly, and he glanced up involuntarily. “Mistletoe,” she said.

He smiled back at her, his heart lighter than it had been in months. “I bet you put that there on purpose.”

“Who, me?” she asked innocently. “Why on earth would I ever do such a thing?”

He bent down to kiss her, still smiling. He was home.


End file.
